Although I have known it to be true forever, it just occurred to me like I heard it for the first time that there will be no going back. We progress forward for good or bad, and time wasted is just that. So what am I to do with an age in years more beyond fifty than I want to admit and a whole new life to live?

There is a seed in me that has germinated and wants to grow. She doesn’t know age or time. She knows only that she has sprouted and must either grow or die. She trusts me, or she wouldn’t be tapping me on the shoulder and urging me to take up my pen and write.

It is up to me to decide the fate of this new sprout. No, I’m not with child, at least not in the biological sense, but there is the spirit of a young woman in this skin and she’s eager to fly.

Today she told me this: Regret serves us nothing. It merely feeds the monster called bitterness.